


A Standard Treatment

by 7r33h0u53r3fu633



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Female Ejaculation, Hysteria treatment, Misogyny, Multiple Orgasms, Verbal Humiliation, kinkshaming, medical rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26385889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7r33h0u53r3fu633/pseuds/7r33h0u53r3fu633
Summary: Thea Smith's husband sends her to the doctor, since clearlysomethingis wrong with her.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	A Standard Treatment

**Author's Note:**

> Please ignore any historical inaccuracy, as this was written to be fap fodder and I didn't do much research.

Thea Smith sat in the doctor's office, and she tried not to jiggle her knee. 

She was restless, which was part of the problem, wasn't it? Too much unfocused energy, too much irritability, too much daydreaming. She'd gotten into a shouting match with her husband over his socks all over the floor, and he had made the appointment with the doctor immediately after, dropping her off on his lunch break. 

And now she was here. 

She'd never been to this doctor before - he had said his wife's boss had been coming here for her own nerve problems, and as far as her husband was concerned, that was all the endorsement the place needed. 

Thea wasn't so sure.

There was a pregnant woman sitting next to her, hands folded over her swollen belly, and she smiled at Thea. She looked very tired,but she smiled when she met Thea’s eye. “You here for your check up?” 

_My husband thinks I’m suffering from hysteria and wants me to get some new treatment that his boss’s wife loves,_ Thea didn’t say. “Just a check up.”

“If you’re trying to conceive, he is _the_ one to go to,” the woman said, patting her own round belly. “He was a big help!”

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind,” the Doctor said. 

“Thea Smith?” 

Thea stood up, clutching her bag, and she gave the woman a nervous smile. “Thank you,” she said, and then she was being ushered into the exam room. 

* * *

Thea sat on the exam table, jiggling her foot. She was drumming her fingers on her thigh, mentally going over her meal plans. She’d read that new recipe the other day, and her husband had always been picky about his food, but maybe he’d be in a better mood, since she’d come here. She hadn’t even argued that much, sensing his impending flare of temper. 

The door opened, and she jumped at the sudden break in the silence. The man who walked in had a slightly harassed expression, and he looked tired. There was something about his eyes that made her nervous, although she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

Doctors always made her nervous. 

“Mrs. Smith?” He closed the door behind him securely, and the way it clicked made something in her stomach flutter. The windows to the outside were covered by venetian blinds, and the midday sun slanted in like bars of gold across the tile. 

“Thea, yes,” she said, and she held her hand out to shake.

He wasn’t looking up from her chart, and she let her hand fall back down into her lap, blushing all the way up to her ears. “Your husband says that you’ve been agitated,” he said, finally looking up. “Uncooperative. Obstinate.”

“I’d hardly call myself obstinate,” she said. “We just had a bit of a disagreement.”

“He said you’re having them regularly,” the doctor said. 

“What’s your name?” Thea asked, since she couldn’t just refer to him as “the doctor.” That’d be daft. 

“You can call me Doctor Oscar,” he told her, and he flashed her a smile that did not reach his eyes. 

“All couples argue,” Thea said. She resisted the urge to swing her legs, or tap her hands over the tops of her thighs. The anxiety that was ratcheting up her spine seemed to be adding to the energy, like one of those spring powered toy planes. “It’s perfectly normal. He’s been stressed from work, and I’ve been stressed as well.”

“What, exactly, is stressing you?” The doctor looked at her, his expression impassive, and her stomach did an uncomfortable little flip. Something about the way he was looking at her made her feel very small and very stupid, like she wanted to hide under a table, or pull the covers over her head. 

“Oh, y’know, all the regular parts of life,” said Thea. “It’s hard work, running a household.”

“My other patients don’t seem to have those problems. Your husband said that you don’t have children, so I wouldn’t even call it much of a household,” he said flatly. “I’m going to need to do an examination now,” he added, closing the chart and placing it on the little counter by the sink. He took the stethoscope that had been draped over his shoulders, coming up into her personal space, the tops of his legs pressing against her knees. 

He was close enough that she could have counted the scruffy hairs of his stubble. The stethoscope was cold, even through the thin cotton of her dress, and she shivered. 

“Deep breath, Mrs. Smith,” Doctor Oscar said, and she did as instructed, as he moved the stethoscope across her chest. Then he was leaning forward, his hand on her shoulder to keep her in place as the stethoscope moved over her back. “And another.”

She did as instructed, and tried not to flinch away from his hand on her. He was warm - warmer than her husband, who had clammy, cold hands, and she shivered again, thinking about them on her skin.

“All seems to be in order,” he said blandly. He sounded _bored_ , and Thea wanted to roll her eyes. She had worked in a shop, before she’d gotten married, and she knew how boring it could be to interact with the public. But keep up appearances, at least!

He was equally bored as he took her blood pressure (the cuff squeezing just a _smidge_ too tight), and her temperature. She felt like a child again, sitting with her feet dangling off the edge of the table with a thermometer under her tongue. He didn’t look up at her as they waited, just took notes in her chart. When he took it out of her mouth, he squinted down at it, and then he frowned. 

“All seems to be in order,” Doctor Oscar said. “I’m almost certain it’s a classic case of hysteria.”

“Hysteria,” Thea said flatly.

“Happens to women your age all the time,” Doctor Oscar said, and he sounded confident. “The treatment, of course, is fairly certain.”

“I’d rather not take nerve pills,” Thea said, thinking of her neighbor, Mrs. Ramshaw. The poor woman had been put on some special pills for her “nervous condition,” and now she had a habit of trailing off mid-sentence and standing by the window, staring into the distance.

“I don’t believe in pills,” Doctor Oscar said. “Don’t worry.” He said the reassurance like he was reading it off of a cue card. “I’ll need to finish the examination, then we can move on to the treatment. Please take off your shoes and your knickers, and put your feet in the stirrups.”

Thea blinked, trying to keep up. “What?” She had to have misheard that.

“Your shoes and your knickers, Mrs. Smith,” Doctor Oscar said, and there was a note of impatience in his voice now. “I need to do an examination.”

“Surely that’s not…” Thea started, then trailed off. “Is it _really_ necessary?” Her voice squeaked at the end. 

“I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t,” Doctor Oscar said. “Do get to it, Mrs. Smith. I have other patients to see.”

Thea’s hands were shaking as she unlaced her shoes, letting them drop to the floor. She paused, and caught him looking at her expectantly. “D’you mind turning around?” Thea asked, and she was already blushing. 

He raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. “I’m going to be seeing it anyway,” he said dryly, as he pulled the stirrups up the end of the table. “It won’t be anything I haven’t seen before,” he added. 

Thea stood up, and she hooked her fingers into the waistband of her knickers, dropping them down. Lacking anyplace else to put them, she placed them on the chair beside the sink. Her hands were shaking, as she climbed back onto the table. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, but kept her feet flat on the table. 

“Feet in the stirrups, please,” said Doctor Oscar. There was the sound of the sink running, and then the familiar _snap_ of rubber gloves. 

Thea did as instructed - she’d had an internal exam before. When she and her husband had begun to discuss having children, she’d gone to the doctor, to make sure that everything was in working order. It would be just like that. Unpleasant, but she could live with it. 

How did one check for hysteria, anyway? She’d read up on it in a medical textbook, the first time her father had implied her mother had been suffering from it. She’d always assumed that you’d be able to _tell_ if a body part was wandering around of its own volition. 

“Move your bottom closer to the edge of the table, please,” said Doctor Oscar. There was the sound of a stool being moved closer to the table, “and put your feet in the stirrups.”

Thea did as instructed. The metal of the stirrups was cold against her soles, and she was grateful for the fact that her skirt between her stretched knees hid him from her view. 

Doctor Oscar stood up, and he leaned over her from between her legs. He felt along her belly, his face impassive, and Thea bit her lip to keep from making any distressed noises. It was… uncomfortable, especially with him looming over her like a lover. 

“Your husband says you haven’t been intimate with him recently,” he said, as he felt along her stomach. 

Thea cleared her throat. It was hard to talk with the doctor’s weight resting on her stomach. “Been distracted,” she said. 

“By what?” He was feeling along her sides as well, squeezing them, then letting go.

“Oh, y’know,” Thea said, and then she caught his look. It seemed he didn’t like vague. “Running a household,” she said, aware it was the second time she’d said that. 

“You didn’t used to find it quite so exhausting, according to your husband,” said the doctor. He stopped feeling along your midsection, and sat back down. 

_I really wish he hadn’t told this stranger all our business_ , Thea thought, very carefully not dwelling on the fact that a stranger was staring at her most intimate parts. She didn’t think even her husband had seen her like this. 

The last check up she’d been to hadn’t felt this… charged. This uncomfortable. The doctor had been an older man with grey eyebrows you could lose a mouse in, and he’d spent most of the examination discussing the fly fishing he was planning to do over the weekend.

Thea had never had an interest in fly fishing, but the doctor had made it sound interesting, at least. 

There was a wet sound, and then something cold was pressing against her labia. She froze, her toes curling in the stirrups, and her knees started to press together. 

“You need to keep your knees open,” he said. “If you cannot, I will have to restrain you.”

“I can keep them open,” Thea said meekly, and she squeezed her eyes shut, spreading them a little wider. He must have put some kind of lubricant on his fingers - they were cold, and they slid into her without any resistance. 

“Definitely hysteria,” the doctor said, in that same bored tone. 

His fingers felt big inside of her - she hadn’t been intimate with her husband in months, and generally their lovemaking was just him on top of her, then inside of her, working in and out. The doctor wasn’t moving them - he just kept them in place, as solid as an iron bar. 

“I don’t feel like I’m hysterical,” Thea said timidly. “If… I feel like that’s something I’d know.”

“One of the signs of madness is not knowing you’re mad,” the Doctor said. He twitched his fingers almost idly, and she bit her lip to keep from making any noise. She was starting to feel most queer, and she didn’t know what to make of it. 

It was a little bit like when she rode a horse, and she leaned forward just _so_. That same rush and quiver. 

“By that logic,” Thea said, “isn’t everyone mad? Since everyone _knows_ they’re not… _oh_.” 

The doctor’s fingers curled up, and his thumb pressed up against something delicate that made light bloom behind her eyes. It was a part of herself that she was dimly aware of - it was sensitive enough that she usually left it alone, apart from a cursory rub with the washcloth when she was bathing. 

“This is, of course, the standard treatment for hysteria,” the doctor said, as his thumb rotated in little circles, his other fingers carefully curling and straightening inside of her. He still sounded bored. “It’s your wifely duty, to give your husband what he wants.” 

More rubbing, her hips were rocking forward, just a bit. Her thighs kept trying to close, and then they’d brush against his lab coat, and she’d force them open again. There were little noises filling the air - grunts, gasps, moans. It was some surprise for her to realize that they were coming from _her_. 

“There you go,” he said, still bored. “You’re almost there. You just need a paroxysm, and then you’ll be right as rain. “ He was still rubbing, and it just felt so _strange_ , as the pressure began to build and build, like pressure behind his eyes. 

_A paroxysm_ , the Doctor thought. _What’s he on about?_

“It is your job to provide your husband with what he needs,” said Doctor Oscar, beginning to move his arm a little harder. He was _shoving_ his fingers, hard enough that her breasts were jiggling, and the intensity was making her whole body squeeze _tight_. 

“I do what I can,” Thea whispered. 

“You need to do better,” Oscar snapped, and then he twisted his fingers inside of her, his thumb pressing harder against that one good spot. “Your husband says you want to have children. You can’t exactly have them if you aren’t being intimate.”

“I’m…” Thea tried to say, but it was hard to think when he was still touching her like that, making her eyes roll back in her head. 

He pinched her in that delicate place, and the pain was like a shock to the system. It set off some sort of… cascade, and then her whole body was shuddering, and the pleasure that was filling her whole body up was like a wave. She sobbed, clenching around his fingers, and then she cried out, as he pinched her in the inner thigh.

“You’re depraved, Mrs. Smith,” Doctor Oscar said, in that same, flat tone. “Reaching a hysterical paroxysm from me hurting you?” 

“I… didn’t mean to,” Thea said, and she hated how pathetic she sounded. “It was an accident.”

“You need to take responsibility,” said Doctor Oscar, and then he was adding another finger. That was thicker than she was used to, and she hissed, wrinkling her nose. “If you are some kind of depraved degenerate who gets satisfaction from pain, it is on you to correct yourself, if you ever want to be a parent.”

He was still using his fingers, still rubbing that one spot. It was making her tremble, and she was crying - when had she started crying? There were tears dripping down towards her ears. 

“You’re hurting me,” Thea said, as his thumb began to rub her again, harder this time.

“I can feel how much you like it,” he said, his tone dismissive. “I should have guessed. Frigid women usually have some kind of degeneracy, and this is no exception.”

“I’m… I’m not frigid,” said Thea. That same tension was building up again. _What if I asked my husband to do this?_

“Mrs. Smith, please keep your legs open, or I will be forced to restrain you,” snapped Doctor Oscar, and he gave his fingers another twist.

She pulled them back open, and she bit her own hand to keep from making any embarrassing noises. Her skirt was sliding down her thighs, up towards her belly, and when she looked between her breasts, she could see him, staring down at her most private parts. 

His expression was still, bored, blank. He caught her eye, and he kept talking as he began to move his arm faster. “If you want to be normal, you need to have children. In order to have children, you will need to actually let your husband fuck you.” 

Thea made a distressed noise at the crudeness, and then another one, as he pinched her thigh again. 

“This is what i mean. You’re a prude. You’re frigid. A married woman like you should be fucking her husband at least three times a week, if not more. With no children, too, and your husband says you always turn him down when he offers.” He was curling his fingers now, jabbing upwards, and that seemed to be hitting something _good_ inside of her, something that was making her toes curl. 

Another paroxysm struck her, and this one seemed to be… moreso. There was a wet sensation, and then he was pulling his fingers out of her, making a disgusted noise. She felt so achingly empty, and she shuddered, clenching around nothing.

“I see that you’re particularly depraved,” the doctor said, and he sounded disgusted. He was pressing closer to her now, the wheels of his stool squeaking. His damp hand was on her inner thigh, forcing it open, and his breath was very hot, stirring the little hairs she had down there.

“I didn’t…” Thea said weakly. “I mean…”

His mouth was suddenly on her, right _there_ , his lips closing around that one little spot. His finger had drifted lower, and now it was probing… 

“That’s not part of hysteria treatment,” Thea said, and ironically, she sounded hysterical as she spoke. She was trying very hard not to start giggling like a mad woman, the terror breaking up in her guts like bubbles. Her thighs were very cold, were they were bared - she should have worn stockings. Should have just submitted to her husband’s pawings in bed the night before - at least that was over quickly. 

The doctor pulled away from her, and his finger pressed into her arse, all the way up to the second knuckle. It _stung_ , and she clenched again, shuddering. “Do not presume that you have more medical knowledge than I do,” he snapped, and he tweaked that sensitive little bud, which made her _wail_. “And do shut up,” he added. “What will the other patients think?”

Oh _god_ , there were other patients out in the waiting room, weren’t there? What if they could hear her grunting and moaning like some kind of animal?

Thea shoved her hand into her mouth, biting down hard on the meat of it. She whimpered pathetically as his mouth descended back down on her - that couldn’t be normal. This couldn’t be the usual treatment. It just _couldn’t_. 

His scruffy chin was abrading her most sensitive parts, and when her thighs drifted closed, it was rubbing there as well, leaving her pink. His tongue was doing… something, and so was the finger in her arse. It was hard to keep track of what was what, honestly, because it was all so _much_. She was sobbing brokenly, and she seemed to be full of some compulsion to move her hips, as she began to shake that much harder. 

His tongue was _inside_ her, and how did that work, why would he want to put his mouth… there? She didn’t know the specifics of it, but she couldn’t imagine it was… pleasant. But he was doing it, he was licking her as he moved his finger, and then he was sucking, and the pressure was getting stronger. She was half afraid she would fall apart, as he kept sucking and licking at her. 

The sounds were so loud in the small room, and the sensation of mounting tension was making her whole body go rigid. She was shaking, and she could taste the salt of her own tears, her sweat. The doctor rubbed his rough chin against her and sucked on that little bud again, and the tension inside her broke again, stronger than before.

Thea cried as she shook through it, the pleasure hot and potent as it danced along her nerves. She wished she could feel this at home, in her own bed, away from this horrible man - wished she was far away from here, reading a book, maybe tending to her garden, or taking apart`some old electronic. Anywhere but here, humiliated by the wetness smeared across her thighs and the finger in her arse.

“Well,” said Doctor Oscar, pulling back, and when she looked at his face, she saw the shine of her own fluids on his face. It made her face grow hotter. “That seems to be it for the hysteria. You’ll feel much better soon, and be much more agreeable.” 

Thea, too embarrassed to say anything else, just nodded, staring up at the ceiling. “I’ll schedule another appointment for you, for next month.” He went to the sink, washing his hands, then his face. “When you get home,” he told her, “tell your husband to fuck you right away.”

She flushed, her feet still up in the stirrups, still hot and pulsing between the legs. 

“You should be pregnant by our next visit,” he said pleasantly. “I’ll be sure to examine you thoroughly. I’ve got treatments to aid fertility as well, so don’t you worry.” He smiled at her like a tiger in the grass, and then he patted her on the belly with one damp hand. “You’ll be putting that womb to use in no time, and it’ll stop it’s wandering.”

He seemed almost _jovial_ , and that was more unsettling than the blankness. She didn’t say anything, just brought her feet down. She sat up, trying to smooth her skirts, and she was sitting in a wet spot.

“Well?” He sounded mad, and Thea looked up at him. His eyes were dark, and he was frowning hard enough that it formed a line between his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to thank me?”

“Thank you,” Thea said mechanically.

“Very good,” Doctor Oscar praised, and he patted her on the shoulder. “We’ll have you better than new in no time!”

She nodded.

“Talk to the receptionist about your appointment,” Doctor Oscar said, then; “see you in a month.”

And he was out the door. 

Thea let the embarrassed tears fall down her cheek, and she tried not to think about the sensation of his lips, as she pulsed between the legs like a second heartbeat.

**Author's Note:**

> Names borrowed from _Master of the House_ by Zaff!


End file.
